Beige Mornings, Violet Afternoons
by The-Inedible-Croissant
Summary: Ditching work once again in favor of an afternoon of peace, Roxas hopes to simply spend the rest of his day goofing off with his dear friend at their favorite cafe. Unfortunately, Axel never seems to be able to get anywhere on time, even for his best friend. Roxas is starting to suspect it may be because the Superior has finally caught on to the pair's slacking.


Roxas stared into the vast window of the small cafe, searching for the distinct ketchup-disaster of a hair-due that would indicate the existence of his friend within the room, but unfortunately, he had no such luck. Shrugging, he entered anyway supposing he would wait in case Axel decided to show at all.

He plopped down in one of the chairs with the ugly green trim, right near the center of the room, and shuffled into the table. Briefly, he looked out the window, but seeing no one of note, turned his attention to the menu instead.

He flipped it open and scanned the items. He was feeling kind of adventurous today, so he supposed he might try something new. It listed blue tea and red tea, both of which had already proved rather unremarkable during his past ventures.

His eyes got to yellow tea and he reflexively cringed. He had ordered the yellow tea last time, and although it was advertised as lemon, he was pretty sure it was just straight-up piss if the taste was anything to go by.

If his suspicions were anything to go by, he sure as hell didn't want to know what kind of flavor the white tea actually was.

He smacked the menu closed. Okay, so maybe he wasn't ready to go on that adventure just yet. He would just order plain-old green tea; couldn't go wrong with green tea.

Roxas placed his order and waited. Intermittently, he would glance back out the window with his vibrant sapphire ò̞͓r̯͢b͏̟̠͍͈s͍̟͘, each time sighing sadly as he turned back to face the vacant chair across from him, all the while his vision painfully friendless.

A few moments later, the server returned with his cup of green tea, placing it down on the table upon a coaster with the same hideous green trim as the chairs. But Roxas ignored the eye-gougingly horrible green trim, instead more focused on his hopefully delicious green tea. Already, his mouth watered, ｍｏｉｓｔ despite the fact that it was drier than a shoe teleported to the surface of Mercury.

His brain sending signals to his right-oriented upper grasping appendage, it moved forward through the space before his person, forcing a myriad of air molecules out of the way. Digits outstretched, he tightened them around the gentle swooping curve of the porcelain connected to the cup that contained within its white depths his soon-to-be refreshment. As the outer-most dermal layer that covered his fingers made contact with the handle, a spike of warmth shot through his arm, the heat conducted through the stony material more than enough to make his thermoreceptors fire.

He almost released, but the temptation to soothe the dryness of his parched throat and awaken his dozing taste buds overcame that slim hesitation. His muscles contracted, lifting the cup of green-flavored tea skyward and ever towards his gaping orifice used for the intake of both food and drink, but also sometimes air cause it was weird like that.

As it neared his awaiting lips, his lungs compressed, a blast of hot air escaping from his chest and flowing out over the steaming, leaf-green liquid. A cloud of steam blew off, and he pressed the rim of the cup to his mouth. It was hot against his ｍｏｉｓｔ oral flaps, and he hesitantly tested the liquid using his tongue. It appeared like a toad from hiding, slowly making its way down to the tea. He cringed at the heat, and immediately recalled it back to its toothy mouth-prison. He gave it another blow, then reluctantly took a small sip. Still adequately heated, it stung his mouth slightly, but was smooth enough whilst creeping down his esophagus. He sighed.

Ah, how he loved the taste of Green 1724; so intense, so sharp, so chemical. That lingering artifice that spread upon his tongue like a disease in a pathetic attempt of substance; it was a cruel reminder of his mortality. He could almost feel the neoplasms breaking out in his small intestine.

His tea-induced reverie was interrupted by a loud banging on yonder glass pane of window. Roxas placed the cup back on the ugly coaster with green trim and twisted around, his blue o͔̦͌̓ͯͮ͗̇r̯̱͉̦̞̼͋̀̌ͩb̹͔̫͎͗s̭͇̼͎̺͎̗͑͆̒ͪ̏̆ at once darting to the source. He grinned, his mouth a piano, his visually-expressed happiness the music.

Axel was there, making stupid faces at him as he rapped on the glass. He made his way inside and pulled out the chair across from Roxas and then sat down in it and leaned forward onto the table using his spindly-twig elbows.

"Hey Roxas, how ya doing?" Axel asked, beaming like a lighthouse that was probably on fire.

"Well, I'm alright now." Roxas answered. He stared deeply into his friend's overly described eyes. He absentmindedly rapped a finger against the side of the cup; it was ｍｏｉｓｔ, a few stray drops of green fluid making their way down its smooth, porcelain side.

Suddenly, an icy cold chill ran up his spine. It felt as if he had just shoved his dick inside a pile of snow. Roxas's head flipped around, and his eyes widened in terror.

There, in the window, was Xemnas, face pressed against the glass, distorting his already frightening, angry glare into something even more horrifying. With one swift motion, he smashed the glass to pieces using his massive fist.

He approached the table, expression morphing into something beyond angry as it fell past the event horizon of faces and became something entirely non-euclidean in nature. "Why are you here!?" he bellowed, "Why are you not out collecting hearts!?"

"Hearts! We must have hearts! For _KINGDOM HEARTS_!" Xemnas began violently foaming at the mouth. It came in a deluge, a waterfall of froth. It soon inundated the cafe like a sheet of fresh snow, only it wasn't snow, but a sea of frothy Nobody-saliva. Shit was fuckin' gross.

Roxas shuffled back in his seat, his rib-contained cardiac organ of the left orientation starting to pump the red-colored, iron-based fluid through his left ventricle at a measurably higher pace than the moments before the event prior had urged his endocrine system to produce Epinephrine.

Time seemed to blur to a halt. His glistening, sea-flavored face-windows widened in awestruck horror as he took in the scene unfolding before him. It was quite the scene to behold, unfolding as it was. Slowly, Xemnas moved closer, arms flying out as he called his blades to his side.

Wide-eyed, Roxas removed himself from the comfy chair-shaped abode and stumbled back. As the tangerine-or-maybe-it-was-actually-the-color-of-a-clemantine-haired Nobody began to traverse backwards through the adjoining spatial area, Axel moved forth from his own chair onto the defensive. Suddenly, with a bright flash of technicolor flames, his chakrams appeared in his dexterous gripping agents.

Phosphorescent red light trailed off from Xemnas's ethereal blades as he leapt into the air. Axel leapt after him, fire channelling up from his weapons, like a bunch of pissed-off bees coming out of beehive, only instead of bees coming out it was flames. In the confusion, Roxas was knocked to the floor. Next went the rest of his tea. Following the pale cup with his glistening _ö̮̼̭̘́ͧ͟r̤̙̞̜̰b̴̬̫̫͖͍̓̏̉̒ͣ̿s̺̪̞͇̥ͣ̿̑_ , Roxas reached out, as if with all his desperation he could somehow catch it. Up into the air and down again it came, shattering into a billion pieces upon the cold, unforgiving tile floor not an inch from his outstretched hand. Lamenting, Roxas just stared at the remains of his once-tea: the ugly shade of green, that tongue-burning chemical taste; all was now spread out across the sad, lonely floor, forever lost to him.

To himself, quietly, he began to weep. Oblong globs of liquid-form dihydrogen monoxide, among other things, rolled down his cheeks, making his face ｍｏｉｓｔ.

Wracked with sadness and hate, the want to transform Xemnas into a piece of burnt toast arose within his very non-existent core. Roxas rolled over and sprang to his feet like a majestic, rubber-covered rabbit wearing a bow tie. In the sky above, Xemnas and Axel were still both in mid-leap. They were like two human-shaped birds, slowly descending upon each other. Eyes the color of a bottle of Windex locked on the combat yet to be, Roxas ran forward, his legs like two motile shrubs.

Axel and Xemnas clashed in a nondescript way, and Axel landed back in front of Roxas. Xemnas, furious, panted like a tiny fish cast into the deepest reaches of space. His face had begun warping, like the texture was fucked up or something.

Roxas's eye-grasped, sea-flavored sphincter muscles began to dilate, and the small Nobody-shaped boy froze. The muscles in the puny stem connecting his body and head contracted, allowing him to turn to Axel. The flaming-cabbage-headed man gave him a reassuring grin before rushing at the Superior once again.

Roxas was left with hand outstretched, reaching after him. Then he clenched it into a fist. He glanced back towards the mangled corpse of his cup and lost tea, still spreading out across the tiled floor like disgusting insect blood that was hot for some reason. Xemnas had already claimed one thing precious to him on that day; Roxas wasn't about to let him claim another.

His right appendage in the shape of an arm shot out, and with all the majesty of a two-frame flame GIF, his Giant Fucking Key appeared within the distal confines of his palm-locked hand-toes. Grasping it tightly like a massive shiny dong, he glared at Xemnas, his face muscles drawing back like cheap curtains to reveal his thirty-two key mouth-bound piano in a display of defiance.

Xemnas stalked closer, movements labored, now trudging at least knee-deep through superfluous paragraph. It was too much.

Axel moved towards the anchovy-haired clone man, his chakrams spinning in his hand-shaped hands like a pair of flying, flaming lawnmower blades. Xemnas arched back, raising his arms in preemptive retaliation as his left eye bugged out, currently trying to escape from its eldritch abomination of a face-prison.

Roxas followed behind his friend like a box being pushed towards a slightly larger box. He began charging his attack, copying and pasting the energy from his body into his Giant Fucking Key. Gripping the handle with both arm-ending glove-holders, he pointed the tip at Xemnas, thoroughly prepared to transform him from a regular Nobody into a dead Nobody.

He moved closer, energy coursing through him like toilet water into the sewers. His left leg moved into the air and then struck down onto the hard tile floor, but instead of hard tile floor like he expected, the bottom of his Nobody boot had actually struck wet tile floor. Roxas looked down, confused upon hearing the splash. His foot had planted right into his poor, massacred tea. With the combined image of the spilt tea and the tiles' hideous green trim both within his vision, his eyes became ｍｏｉｓｔ as he began to tear up, the sight just too painful to bear all at once.

The tiny, human-shaped person of a Nobody fell to his knees, his Giant Fucking Key slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor, narrowly missing the object of his despair. His searing _**ǒ͈̠̘̫̖̪**_ _ṙ̳̖͍͈̹̌̇͌ͭͅ_ _ **b̴̡͎̘̞̙̱ͨͭ̅̄̀**_ _s̢̖͈͔͕͇̜̦̫̔̓̔ͨ͒̂ͫ_ the color of a goldfish Photoshopped to be blue instead locked on the sight laid out before him, Roxas fell forward onto his hands, as if prostrating himself to some heavenly tea-shaped deity. His mouth-slug fell from its toothy abode and began lapping up the green liquid from the disgusting, green-trim-tiled ground, carrying with it the equally-shitty taste of floor and everything-from-the-bottom-of-people's-shoes back to the mouth-cave. His eyes began to water upon his being reunited with his once-lost tea, a pure euphoria flooding through his puny form; it was still warm. It was everything he ever wanted and more.

Xemnas collapsed to the floor, dead. Exhaustion had spelt his doom. The sheer amount of time taken to get through one simple action had burnt through the last of his years.

Still crouched over his tea, Roxas wept with joy.


End file.
